


Atlantis Records

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [39]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the shopping comment_fic prompt: “Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard +/ any, Record store AU.”





	Atlantis Records

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



Atlantis Records was obscure and hole-in-the-wall and, had it been a restaurant, would have been one giant health code violation, but John loved it. He loved the dusty carpet and bare-bulb lighting, the endless boxes of records and the cracked linoleum counter, the old brass cash register that had probably belonged in some retail business with the word “shoppe” in the name. Perhaps John loved it so much because his father hated that he was working there.

At sixteen, John should have started in the mail room at Sheppard Industries. But he didn’t want to go to Harvard, and he didn’t want to join the family business. Dad had freaked out and cut him off, kicked him out, though he’d stopped short of unenrolling John from boarding school.

But during the summer? John was persona non grata in the Sheppard household.

Elizabeth, who ran the record store, let John sleep in a cot at the back, and the little fridge in the storage room was full of his groceries. He worked out and showered at the local YMCA, and Elizabeth had some kind of deal with the Blockbuster next door so John could borrow as many movies as he wanted on the cheap so long as he returned the videos the next day.

John worked all day every day, and between him and Elizabeth they kept the place running. 

John knew all the regulars. Teyla liked to find obscure sort of folksy or trance music to meditate and dance to. She was either a ballerina or a ninja, possibly both. She wore interesting, flowing outfits and was perpetually armed with a pair of wooden sticks. Ronon loved musical scores, which was surprising, since he had dreadlocks and tattoos and looked like he could break John with his bare hands. He was always in looking for this soundtrack or that soundtrack or that recording with the London cast, not the Broadway cast. Evan was a painter, liked to paint to music. Every painting needed its own soundtrack, so Evan was always trying new things, from jazz to metal to blues to opera. Jonathan listened to nothing but opera, and John had heard that he was himself a talented opera singer, had learned Italian and German and French in pursuit of his passion, but he always came in with grease-stained hands because he was a mechanic. Daniel liked world music, could be found hanging around the Chinese operas and Philippine punk and German metal while he extolled the virtues of having an international ear. Cameron was every all-American high school star quarterback ever, and his tastes ran to rock like The Eagles, AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Boston, Chicago, Styx, and more. John wasn’t sure what Sam actually liked, but apparently her goal this summer was to learn to play the cello, so she often came in search of recordings of new cello songs to learn. Teal’c, who was from somewhere John had never heard of - and he’d checked an atlas - liked old jazz and blues, because he had a thing for noir films and their soundtracks. Vala and Sarah always came in together. Sarah was teaching Vala about the history of English music: the Beatles, the Sex Pistols, Eric Clapton, Elton John. There was a gaggle of Korean boys who always came in together, all seven of them. Every time they came in they had different colored hair, and John was embarrassed to admit that he had trouble telling them apart, but one of them was a DJ, and he was always on the lookout for interesting songs to add to his mixes, because he performed at underground parties. Toshi came in every week to buy an album from a different classical artist for his best friend Yoshi, who was an aspiring classical musician.

John was pretty sure that the shop’s regulars weren’t regulars so much as the only people who knew the shop existed, because whenever other people came in to look for things - Miko in search of some old-school Japanese pop; Radek on the lookout for a recording of a Dvorak symphony - they always said that one of the regulars had steered them toward Atlantis Records.

So John was very surprised one day when two strangers came into the shop, a boy and girl, both blond and blue-eyed. There was something to their cheekbones and eyes that made John think they were siblings; the girl looked to be a couple of years younger than the boy.

“Welcome to Atlantis Records,” John said. “Anything in particular you’re after?”

The boy glanced at him. “Just browsing,” he said dismissively, and he drifted toward a box full of David Bowie records.

“All right. Let me know if you need help finding anything.” John went back to his ledger. Even though Elizabeth was plenty smart, she wasn’t too proud to admit that John was far better at math, so he did the books.

The girl came up to the counter. “Hey, do you have any Isabelle Boulay?”

John considered. “I haven’t seen anything from her in recent deliveries, but if you like I know we have at least one Francis Cabrel album.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’d be perfect! I can’t remember which album has C’Etait L’hiver.”

“Do you want the live version or studio version?” John stepped out from behind the counter and led the girl toward the international section.

“Do you have a live version?” The girl followed him.

“I’m pretty sure we do.” John smiled at her. “How did you find us?”

“We were just wandering by and saw the sign and it looked interesting,” the girl said.

That was one John had never heard before. “That’s cool. You speak French?”

“We’re Canadian,” she said. “You?”

“Not Canadian, but I learn in school.” John helped her find the record she wanted, and then he carried it over to the counter for her. “I can hold this for you while you browse some more.”

She nodded and started to speak, but her brother broke in.

“Do you have any Rachmaninov?”

“Sorry, but we just sold our last album yesterday,” John said. Evan was working on another dramatic painting. “We get new shipments every Tuesday.”

“We won’t be here next Tuesday,” the boy said.

“Oh? You just visiting?”

The boy nodded stiffly. “Hurry up, Jeannie.”

Jeannie rolled her eyes at him, then smiled at John. He rang her up quickly, bundled the record into a brown paper sleeve for her.

“Enjoy,” he said.

“I will.” She waved and smiled one last time, then followed her brother out of the store.

John watched them go and thought it was a shame that her brother was so standoffish, because he was cute.

They came back the next day, though. John was helping Vala and Sarah track down a very specific Police record when Jeannie and her brother stepped into the shop.

John smiled and called out, “How was Francis Cabrel?”

Jeannie said, “C’est magnifique!”

Her brother cleared his throat. “I saw on your sidewalk sign that you take trade-ins. I was wondering if anyone had traded in some Rachmaninov.”

“Not today, unfortunately,” John said.

The boy considered. “Do you have any Gershwin, maybe?”

“I’ve got both An American in Paris and three versions of Rhapsody in Blue - the piano solo, the symphonic version, and the original jazz ensemble version.” 

“Where are they?” 

John pointed. “Over in classical. Once I’m done helping these ladies I’ll be there.”

The boy nodded and headed over to classical. His sister trailed along behind him.

Once Sarah and Vala had completed their purchase, John went to help Jeannie and her brother.

“Which one strikes your fancy?” John asked.

Jeannie’s brother had all three versions of Rhapsody in Blue propped up on top of the other records and he was studying them intently.

The boy glanced at him. “Which one do you prefer?”

“I like the jazz ensemble version best, but I’ve been told my taste in music is pretty plebeian.” John shrugged.

The boy looked him up and down. “You seem to have a wide and varied knowledge of music.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as taste,” John said. “One man and one man only has my heart.”

The boy’s eyes went wide. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“Johnny Cash.”

The boy frowned. “The country singer?”

“He’s not just a country singer - he’s a legend.”

The boy’s expression was skeptical.

John drifted over to the folk section and poked around, found his favorite Johnny Cash album. Then he went over to the record player and fired it up. “Listen to this and tell me if it’s simply country.”

It was Johnny’s God’s Gonna Cut You Down.

The boy’s expression remained mulish, but his sister’s was contemplative. She nodded along to the rhythm of the guitar.

“It’s kind of terrifying,” the boy said.

John rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be a Bible-thumper to appreciate the man’s gravitas, all right?”

The boy’s expression was still dubious.

Before John could argue more, the Korean rainbow brigade arrived. They all bowed at John as they stepped into the shop, one at a time, and he kind of felt like he ought to salute them back or something. Today one of them was blond, another had platinum blond hair with blue tips, and yet another one had pale pink hair.

Then as one they made a beeline for the bin where David Bowie albums were kept, because the man deserved a bin all himself.

The song finished, and John put the record back in its sleeve, turned the player off.

“I haven’t converted you yet, but I will,” John said. “So, what’ll it be, Rhapsody in Blue, Rhapsody in Blue, or Rhapsody in Blue?”

The boy selected the jazz ensemble version, handed it to John.

John smiled. “Excellent choice. Come on, I’ll ring you up.” 

He turned and headed for the counter and almost missed Jeannie’s hiss of, “You hate jazz!”

John rang up the purchase, then set about finding a brown paper sleeve with the store’s logo on it to wrap it in. He was just about done with the rainbow brigade approached the counter, one of them clutching Major Tom.

“Got another show coming up?” John asked, trying to remember which of them spoke English, but four of them all had black hair.

“Yeah,” the shortest - possibly youngest? - one said. “You should come sometime.”

“I would, but I pretty much live here,” John said, which was more true than any of them would realize.

The youngest one translated, and there was a murmur in Korean, and then the pink-haired one said, in heavily accented English, “Then we should have the party here.”

“I like that,” Vala said immediately, and Sarah nodded her agreement.

“I don’t know how Elizabeth would feel about that,” John said.

“Feel about what?” She breezed in from the back, coffee in hand. She handed John a cup.

“A party here at the store, with our favorite DJ,” Sarah said.

Elizabeth considered. “Daniel, get over here.”

Daniel, who’d been trying to convince Teal’c to try some salsa music, drifted over to the counter. “What’s up?”

“What would you think about us having a party here at the store? Live music. Live DJ.”

“Sounds fun,” Daniel said. 

Sam said, “You’d probably need a city permit, but you could charge a modest cover fee.”

“Or we could do it in the basement and no one who’s authoritative needs to know,” Vala said.

Elizabeth’s expression was thoughtful. She eyed the Korean boys. “How soon could you get a party together?”

There was another flurry of soft conversation.

Daniel said, “He could get his gear here tomorrow night.”

The Korean boys turned to him, surprised.

John said, “He speaks everything.”

Jeannie said, “Could I come? Or would I be too young?”

“Jeannie!” her brother hissed.

Elizabeth laughed. “You’d be fine, because it would be a strictly sober event - don’t think these old bricks could handle much more.”

“Jeannie, we can’t go to a rave,” the boy began, but Jeannie immediately affected a wide-eyed pout.

“Mer!”

He glared at her.

Was his name Mare?

“Rodney, please,” she wheedled, and his expression softened.

“Okay. Fine. Just this once.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Sounds like we’re having a party. Tomorrow night. Starts at ten. Bring your friends.”

Daniel translated, and the Korean boys went wide-eyed, nodded and bowed. They bought the David Bowie record and scurried out, talking at a mile a minute.

The next day, Evan, Teyla, and Ronon stopped by to help set up for the party in the basement. They moved the boxes and furniture to the corners and walls, set up a small stage for the DJ equipment. Miko and Radek helped them rig up some fun colored lights and a sound system. When all was said and done, there was a pretty decent space for people and dancing. John had had the unenviable task of cleaning the basement bathrooms, but then Elizabeth cut him loose so he could work out, shower up, get some food, maybe even take a nap in preparation for a late night.

John hoped Rodney and Jeannie would be at the party, that he’d maybe get to dance with Rodney.

At nine-thirty, John went back to the record store to help the Korean boys set up their friend’s DJ gear and hook it into the sound system. At ten o’clock, the first partners arrived, all of the regulars and then some of the semi-regulars, and then a whole flood of Korean girls. John lingered at the door, taking cover fees and stamping hands and definitely not waiting for Rodney and Jeannie to arrive.

He almost missed it when they arrived because he was fiddling with the lock box where the cover fees were being kept.

“Glad you could make it,” Elizabeth said, and John handed her the stamp. 

He finally got the box to close, and he straightened up - and there was Rodney. His blond hair looked even blonder under the blue lights. Jeannie was wearing a sundress and a denim jacket. She held her hand out to be stamped, and then she headed onto the dance floor.

“You stuck at the door all night?” Rodney asked, looking John up and down.

John had done his best to dress nice - black jeans that made his legs look long, his favorite Johnny Cash t-shirt, shoes he could dance in.

Elizabeth looked at Rodney, then John. “I’ve got it from here. Have fun.” She stamped both of their hands, and John followed Rodney onto the dance floor.

John had been afraid it would be kinda cheesy, like a school dance, but the DJ - John didn’t know his real name; according to the flyer his DJ name was H1 - was playing loud music with a driving beat. Some of it was techno, but some songs also had strains of violin and brass and one time even a mix of acoustic and electric guitars.

Everyone was dancing with everyone else, regardless of how well they knew each other, laughing and smiling. John was pretty sure Ronon was working his way through the crowd toward Evan, who was dancing with Miko and Radek and grinning, delighted. The DJ’s friends took turns up on the stage with him, dancing beside him, having a good time.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Rodney confessed.

John was fine at ballroom dancing, had trained with the finest money could buy so he could be an appropriate escort for eligible young ladies at their cotillions, could waltz and foxtrot and tango with the best of them.

But he said, “Me neither. It’s all right. You’ve got rhythm, I’ve got rhythm, it’ll be fine.” 

He considered, then he reached out, snaked an arm around Rodney’s waist, reeled him in closer. If he’d read Rodney wrong, he could play it off, just dancing, other people were doing it. Vala and Sarah were dancing close, as were Daniel and Jonathan. Toshi and Yoshi were practically melded together.

Rodney gazed into his eyes, and then he pressed closer, swayed to the music with John, and John smiled.

“How was the Rhapsody in Blue?” he asked.

“I already own the other two versions,” Rodney admitted. “I can play it on the piano from memory.”

“I thought I heard your sister say you hate jazz.”

“I don’t  _ hate  _ jazz,” Rodney said. “But I like you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

John smiled again, leaned in. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

“So polite.”

“I’m Canadian.”

John leaned in and kissed him.

Right as the beat dropped, and there was a pause, silence.

And then the music rose, deep and sweeping, like an epic movie soundtrack, and then the vocals picked up, and all around them, there were whistles and cheers.

John pulled back to catch his breath, and Rodney was smiling a little dazedly. John pulled him closer, and they kept on dancing.

If parties at Atlantis Records became a regular thing after that, well, that could only be a good thing, because Rodney and John got better and better at dancing.

And things like dancing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whoever can name all the crossovers gets at least a thousand words, ship/trope of their choice. First come first served.


End file.
